Marshall Law

by Paul Kilmartin

  Sean O'Riordan, despite what he had just heard, relaxed into his chair and released the tension from his hands. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

  ‘Thank God.’ He exclaimed.

  ‘Is everything alright, Detective O’Riordan?’ His reaction had thrown Lance Marshall.

  ‘You know how many kids go missing in this City, Detective Marshall? How many stay missing?’

  Lance knew the numbers that no parent had ever wanted to think about, when their kids hadn’t turned up for something, or the fear that took hold when they were late for anything.

  ‘You know how many registered sex offenders that are out there, in Metro City alone, that we have no clue of their current whereabouts?’ O’Riordan was close to tears but still he looked relieved.

  The number was close to fifty.

  ‘When your kid goes missing, you just pray that at least they find the body,’

  Sean wiped a lone tear from his eye.

  ‘In all of the 20 years of that kid’s life, he was never late for anything. Never, not once. So when he didn’t show up for dinner last night, we knew. As parents, you know,’ Lance knew the feeling.

  ‘And it's nothing morbid, you know? I have spent enough time with families who just know. They describe it, and then you feel it, and you just know.’

  ‘Is there anyone who may have held a grudge against your son?’

  ‘Like a hate crime or something?’

  Lance picked up, on the odd combination of words.

  ‘Detective, was your son gay?’

  ‘Yeah, but no big deal, right, it's 2018. All of his friends loved him, and he got on great in school. We knew he had boyfriends, and what not, but so what, right?’

  ‘Was he seeing anyone?’

  Sean tried hard to remember.

  ‘No, he told us everything about anyone that he could have been seeing, but no, he was completely single.’

  Lance looked across at the father in shock and watched him coming to terms with what had happened.

  He saw him processing it as a thirty-year Cop, and a murder that he had been trained to investigate, but then he saw those walls tumbling over on top of one another.

  The man across from him crumpled in on himself and began to wail in despair. From out in the hallway, other senior Cops, had heard by now from Lindsay Dawn, that it had probably been Sean O’Riordan’s son that was found. Scores of officers came into the interview room and wrapped their collective Metro City blue blanket of respect around their colleague, and carried him away to grieve.

  Lance Marshall walked out, and down the opposite side of the corridor, his colleagues were moving down. He pulled his mobile phone from his trousers pocket and dialed in the last number that had called him.

  ‘Lindsay, I am coming outside to the Park now. We may have a situation.’ Lindsay Dawn didn't speak for a moment and just stared ahead at what she had found alongside the ID of Alan O'Riordan.

  ‘Boss, you don’t know the half of it.’

  DAWN OF SUSPICION

  Lindsay Dawn had made Detective Grade a few days short of her thirty-fifth Birthday, which was remarkable, except if you knew her, you would know that despite the model good looks, she was a hell of a Cop. The only reason she had made Detective so quickly, was that Lindsay Dawn was born to be a Cop, and she could work a crime scene as if it were her own personal gift from God.

  She stood with the mask of a farm animal, wrapped up in a see-through bag in her hands, and wondered if even she was too old for all of this. She wore a blue MCPD bomber jacket and had on a pair of dirty old blue jeans that other women wore on wear what you want to work, casual Friday’s.

  ‘How did you even come across it?' There have been Cops through this entire Park since the body of Annie-Ann Richards was found, and only know we come across this, thing?' Lance asked.

  It was true, the park had been forensically examined by at least ten Cops, on a shoulder to shoulder walk through every square inch of the parks interior space.

  ‘It’s clever Lance, a little too clever for just a random killing,’

  Lindsay walked through the crime scene, and past the outline of a body that had been crudely drawn into the ground where Annie-Ann had been found.

  ‘We re-created this outline from crime scene photographs to make sure that everything was as it should have been when we found Annie-Ann,’

  She began to describe the scene, just like Lance had done so with Annie-Ann Richards.

  ‘She comes through here, falls, marks the ground, and then as she gets back up, is stabbed and murdered.’

  She walked from the center and back to the area where the chalk outline had been crude, drawn onto the grass.

  ‘I don’t see it.’

  Lance got down on his knees, between the gate and the body, and wondered where exactly the evidence was found.

  ‘Under your feet, the marks in the ground. She fell there alright, but afterward, the killer dug up a small piece of turf and buried this in it,’

  Lance looked down and barely noticed it at first.

  ‘It’s perfect, almost manicured in place. It took us a while to put it back into place after I discovered it. But look,’

  Lindsay crouched down to where Lance had been.

  ‘It's barely noticeable, but you can tell from down here that the grass is laying to the left, the way the wind always runs across it. While on this small patch, it is slanted away from the other cuts of grass.'

  ‘So the killer left this here for us to find? That doesn’t make any sense. Why hide something that gives us a clue?’

  ‘Best case scenario? He knows what he is doing, and is just fucking with us.’

  Lance looked at the clear bag that Lindsay Dawn held in her hand.

  ‘And worse case?’ He said, pointing to the mask.

  ‘He has no idea how unhinged he really is, and wants us to know, that this won’t be his last victim.’

  Marshall gulped down some morning air.

  ‘You know something else, don’t you?’

  Lindsay threw Lance the bag and said,

  ‘As I said, that ain't the half of it.’

  The two Detectives walked away from the mound at the center of the park and discussed the macabre find in more detail. They left three uniformed Police officers behind at the mound and told them to expect another visit from the CSI team and James McIntosh.

  ‘I have one question, but the question brings up another question, and I am afraid of what the answer to that second question might be, Lindsay.’

  The pair stopped.

  ‘You want to know why I didn’t hand the bag over to one of the blues, to bring it to the lab for analysis. You think we might find prints on this mask or bag?’

  ‘I don’t even know where to start on what kind of lunatic dresses up like a cow and then murders someone. Surely, we have a better chance of finding them if we run the mask for prints?’

  ‘Why go and run analysis on one piece of evidence, when we can wait and do it on two,’

  Lindsay started to walk towards the active crime scene, where the body of Alan O’Riordan had lain on the grass.

  He too had been memorialized as a chalk outline.

  One man in a CSI investigator's jacket and baseball cap stood away and to the side, and upon seeing the two Detectives coming his way, adjusted his hat downwards but continued to take notes.

  ‘I presume you have no new information from McIntosh yet? Or heard anything yet from Alvin about this second body?’ Lindsay asked about the pathologist and the lead CSI, to which Lance nodded in the negative.

  ‘So, we could safely assume that from the unusual placement of the bodies, that it is, in fact, the same killer for both victims.’

  Marshall rubbed his eyes with his palms, so vigorously that he made his vision go blurry.

  ‘I really hope not.’ He replied.

  ‘So we shouldn’t be able to find any examples of displaced earth or a second mask.’ Lindsay postulated and looked around
the scene.

  It was one of relative peace, in comparison to the chaos in the center of the park. There didn't seem to be a leaf or a blade of grass out of place that might have indicated any sort of panic or a struggle.

  Lance got onto his knees and examined the grass and the small saplings that were blowing in the gentle wind.

  He walked around the entire scene, getting onto his knees and looked at every single item that could have been moved and was then placed back in its spot.

  Everything seemed calm.

  Lindsay did the same, sweeping the area visually before descending to her knees and in some areas, laying on her stomach, to look for clues.

  Marshall looked around and noticed that the CSI was trying desperately hard to ignore them both, but the only problem is that when you work that hard, you stand out even more.

  He whispered to Lindsay as he crouched down beside her.

  ‘He been here this whole time?’

  ‘He isn't one of mine. Those who aren't on perimeter duty, are in the center of the park.'

  ‘On me.’ Marshall whispered, as he unhooked his sidearm, and whipped around, shouting.

  ‘Hands where I can see them, hands where I can see them, lift them up,’ He shouted at the man.

  The figure went to turn away and stood with his back to the advancing armed Detectives. Lindsay had raised her Glock, and crouching down, aimed at the CSI's chest.

  ‘Turn around, very slowly, and keep your hands in the air.’

  Trembling hands, which had shot straight into the air when confronted, turned with the body, and raising his head, spoke from quivering lips.

  ‘Don’t shoot, I was asked to follow you.’

  ‘Holster your weapon Lindsay, this is Officer Brian Tomlinson.’

  Lindsay lowered her gun and stood up from her crouched position amongst a group of two-foot-tall saplings.

  ‘So the Chief asked you to follow me, is that right?’

  Lance still held his weapon but pointed it downwards.

  ‘Yes, I was to report back on any new developments in the case.’ Tomlinson's vocal cords shook and cracked a little.

  The commotion had alerted the perimeter Cops who were standing beside the gateway that led from the Precinct towards the murder scene of Alan O’Riordan. More Officers stood alongside the gate now, some with weapons still drawn.

  ‘Developments like this?’

  Lindsay Dawn held up a two-foot sapling, which revealed another tuft of grass, cut on all sides and laid in place. Lindsay grabbed the grass and pulled it up.

  Beneath it, there sat a second transparent plastic bag, and inside, a second mask.

  ‘What the fuck is that?’ Tomlinson exclaimed.

  Marshall grabbed Tomlinson and pushed him towards a uniformed officer.

  ‘Cuff him and bring him into the station.’ He said, under protest from Tomlinson, that he was only doing his job.

  Marshall looked at the bag that Lindsay was holding.

  They looked at a human-sized mask of an Ant, complete with antenna, an elongated head, and strong mandibles. It was picture perfect, and glistened, almost as if it were sweating in the plastic bag.

  Lance took a pair of gloves from Lindsay and opened the bag, looking in at the signs that a serial killer was on the loose.

  HEAD TO HEAD

  ‘You are completely compromised Detective Marshall, I’m taking you off this case.’

  ‘The hell you are Chief. Not when you are directly interfering in an ongoing investigation.’

  The tense stand-off was happening in the office of the Chief of Police, as pissed off Detectives gathered outside and listened in.

  ‘So when you interviewed a grieving Father when he didn't even realize that his only son was sitting in the morgue. That was good detective work, eh?’ The Chief was spitting mad.

  ‘I only knew the identity of the second murder victim, after I had started that interview. I would never have conducted the interview if I knew the facts to be what they were.’ Marshall defended himself.

  ‘Have you any leads, any clues, anything to go on justifying your continued involvement in this investigation?’

  ‘Apart from the contamination of my crime scene, by a police officer, who was under your orders.’ Marshall shouted out the last piece.

  ‘And am I not glad that I had the foresight to do that? I need to know that you are doing this by the book Marshall. We have two dead bodies, and I want some answers,’

  The Chief stood.

  ‘What exactly have you found out?’

  ‘Evidence found on the scene is being forensically analyzed as we speak and I am still conducting interviews and ruling out potential suspects.’ Marshall answered.

  Chief Edwards vigorously nodded his head.

  ‘No, no, no, those questions that are being asked inside of this building are coming to an end. No more.’

  ‘I have five more interviews, with five more potential witnesses before I can move on and focus the investigation elsewhere.’

  The Chief winced and pleaded.

  ‘Why are you doing this to yourself Marshall, investigating Cops, after your history? You cannot think that a Cop had anything to do with any of this. You are not that dumb Marshall.’

  ‘You keep alluding to my history Chief, but I was

  assigned a case all those years ago. And nothing I can do, can change the fact that there have been two murders, that have been committed not 100 feet from this very office.’

  Edwards waved a finger left and right.

  ‘No, no, no. You had every chance to back away from that Internal Investigation, and I am giving you every chance to back away from this case too.’

  Ears moved so close to the door, that the shadows of the heads they belonged to, were being cast through the glass frame and into the office.

  ‘A lot of good Cops were damn lucky thaectivet I didn’t back off that investigation, and two families are going to be glad that I will not back down off this one either.’

  Chief Edwards sat back and smiled.

  ‘You really believe that, after everything. You think that there are Cops out there, who are rooting for you,’

  He pointed to the shadows on the door and asked Marshall.

  ‘Which Detectives are going to be helping you out?’

  Marshall leaned in closer and said,

  ‘Detective’s Dawn, Johnson and Brandt.’

  Chief Edwards puffed out his cheeks some way, and nodded, approvingly.

  ‘Brandt, well I guessed that. Dawn? Yeah, she is ok. Johnson? well it’s your funeral.’

  Marshall knew of the problems that Chief Edwards would have found with his picks. Lindsay Dawn and Ed Johnson were individual case-workers, but that had meant to Lance, that they were less indebted to the shit. He knew them both to be fine Detectives, and that’s all that would matter.

  Edwards asked, ‘So tell me, who else are you going to be interviewing inside my precinct?’

  Lance thought long and hard about not answering but realized that the names of the officers who were in the building on the nights in question were names, who would soon be public knowledge.

  ‘McCluskey.’

  ‘He was on the desk all night long. Desk Sergeant needs to be. His movements can be fully accounted for. Next.'

  ‘Alex Donoghue and Pamela Rodriguez.’

  Edwards nodded his head again.

  ‘Really? Donoghue and Rodriguez had been re-tasked that night for a stakeout on a high-level narcotics bust that was supposed to have gone down in Metro City.’

  Marshall had one other name on the list of Cops who had been in West and Lively on the night in question.

  ‘Pete Brandt.’

  ‘Pete Brandt? Aint you two supposed to be friends? College buddies, Army friends. Actually, forget I asked that,’

  Edwards was almost laughing now.

  ‘That it?' I am actually happy enough for you to interview Brandt and McCluskey. I am worried about your physica
l well being afterward, but sure, ask whatever questions you need.’

  ‘Thanks, Chief.’

  Marshall was relieved, but cautiously so.

  ‘So, where to then? Old folks home? Hospital surely?’ Edwards wondered.

  ‘I have Officers asking questions, and we will be following up with any leads after the morning briefing tomorrow.’ Marshall explained.

  ‘Good, good. That’s a good idea.’

  Lance turned to walk towards the door.

  ‘There is one more person that I will be interviewing, but I haven’t approached him yet,’

  Edwards leaned back in his chair.

  ‘The only person, in this entire building, who would have their own key to the park.’

  ‘Just try it, Detective.’ Edwards snarled.

  Lance opened the door and closed it behind him, as the Chief of Police slowly opened his top drawer, eyeing the very key that Lance Marshall was talking about.

  The Policemen and women who had been leaning in and listening had formed a cordon of bodies around the door of Chief Edwards. There were those in amongst the scrum, which had been affected by the past actions of Detective Marshall, and there were others who thought that they had been and they blamed him all the same. One hand came in amongst the angry faces and grabbed the jacket of Lance Marshall, pulling him away and to the side, but still, the crowd moved towards Lance.

  Pete Brandt kept on pulling Lance away until they got to the East stairwell and when inside, slammed the door shut, holding his back against it to stop anyone else from joining them.

  ‘Why question me, Lance? You know that I didn’t do anything?’

  Marshall sat on the steps beside the door.

  ‘I know you didn’t, but if I don’t ask questions of everybody, then they will just hold it up in my face that I didn’t.’

  ‘So, just ask me. Don’t make it official.’

  ‘Pete, you were in the building. I am damned if I do, and I am damned if I don’t ask. But I need to ask,’

  Pete nodded in despair and let go of the doors, slumping down beside his colleague and friend.

  He leaned back on the step until it was uncomfortable and his belly began to stretch across the waistline of his white shirt.